


Three Kisses

by roguefaerie (samidha)



Series: American Gods Episodic Ficlets (Season 1) [3]
Category: American Gods (TV), American Gods - Neil Gaiman, Islamic Lore, Neo-Pagan Scripture & Lore, Norse Religion & Lore, Russian Mythology and Lore
Genre: Book spoilers are implied, Canon Character of Color, Canon LGBTQ Character, Canon LGBTQ Male Character, Canon Queer Character, Canon Queer Character of Color, E01S03, Episode Content, Episode Related, Episode s01e03: Head Full of Snow, Episodic Ficlets, F/M, Ficlet, Ficlet Collection, Ficlet Series, Following my Arc from Hammered, Head Full of Snow, Kissing, M/M, More TV events and spellings than book events, Norse Lore Wise This Makes Sense If You Read One of my Other Fics in the Norse Lore Category First, Season/Series 01, Shadow Moon Acquires the Moon, Timely Ficlets, Writing on a Deadline Per Episode, understated
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-16
Updated: 2017-05-16
Packaged: 2018-11-01 14:21:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10923618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/samidha/pseuds/roguefaerie
Summary: Three kisses among the gods.





	Three Kisses

As the evening wore on, they walked through the streets of Chicago, close to the buildings but in their own world, a bubble of their own making, made entirely of presence.

The fortune teller was tired, tired of cooking, tired of cities, tired of Czernobog and his listlessness since retirement. Her words were worn as they came from her throat, asking the old man what he wanted.

“Oh, I want knowledge over comfort, over all things, always.”

“And you. Do you remember when we were young?” he asked, old but thick and full of purpose.

“Barely,” she said dryly.

“Then let me remind you.”

The kiss was real, as real as the one Shadow had given to the virgin sister with no frame of reference. The kiss that had felt like being taught to call the moon, and then it had been his.

In the street, as Wednesday kissed her the sky opened up and the thunder roared, for those were his now, too.

These things change hands, when it is necessary, when it is time to taste war on the lips of someone whose intentions you don’t know, friend or foe.

In another city and in another time, hands are held in an elevator and Salim feels tenderness. Tenderness in the midst of his failure. Tenderness he has not expected and he drinks in like honey, nectar, joy, release, relief, and always the fire. Even in war there is respite. These things change hands.


End file.
